Not Just a Game Anymore
by AllThisHasHappened
Summary: "She shouldn't be encouraging him. She knew perfectly well it wasn't wise of her to do so. It was probably the most stupid thing she could do, considering what he had her go through as of late. She should have ignored him, but she couldn't help it." Starts in 1x13
1. I

**Disclaimer: **None of the characters are mine. I'm just borrowing them for a little while. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**I. **

A smile threatened to appear in Catherine's lips as she caught Henry devouring her with his eyes. She had to double-check; were her eyes deceiving her now, or were those looks directed to someone else? No, it was impossible. She'd been right the first time. Indeed, it was her he was looking at. He wasn't even trying to hide it, even if they were in the chapel attending their eldest son's wedding, surrounded by most of France's noblemen. Having her husband's sudden interest wasn't something she had expected, but if she was completely sincere with herself it wasn't a completely unwelcome surprise.

She straightened her back ever so slightly and held her head high. She looked straight into his eyes daringly and slowly quirked an eyebrow as one of the corners of her lips rose into a half-smile. She shouldn't be encouraging him. She knew perfectly well it wasn't wise of her to do so. It was probably the most stupid thing she could do, considering what he had her go through as of late. She should have ignored him, but she couldn't help it.

Yes, it was all kinds of wrong, but right then, standing in front of him, waiting for their son's bride to make her appearance, she couldn't care less. She was alive; her head and neck were still attached to her shoulders, and that was much more than she believed she would have by now. For an instant she had almost forgotten than if it hadn't been for Francis and Marie de Guise having appeared out of nowhere, helping her pull all the right strings, she would already be without her head. That simple thought sent a chill down her spine now.

Catherine closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them again and met Henry's, she found herself almost gasping for air as her own fingers softly brushed against the side of her neck. Suddenly, her corset felt too tight. Suddenly, a frightful fear threatened to take over her. She shut her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, trying to control her breathing; death had been really close this time, but she was safe now.

She immediately removed the slightly trembling hand from her neck and brought it to lay on her stomach, where she linked it with her other hand to steady the trembling, hoping she'd been quick enough to hide it so no one had a chance to notice her weakness. With another deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes again.

Her husband was still staring at her. He'd most likely witnessed her vulnerability, but he didn't seem to matter. Desire was still written all over his face. Knowing him, he might even find her vulnerability appealing, or maybe he didn't even care. Either way, he seemed to have forgotten that he was the one who had almost had her killed.

For once, Catherine wouldn't mind to go along with her husband's delusion; she'd gladly forget that her children had nearly been left motherless by their own father's hand. It was easy to try to forget all of that for a while, even if it was just for a day, and enjoy her husband's unexpected interest in her.

For once, with Diane away in Paris, maybe she stood a real chance. That woman had _always_ been there. Catherine had been the third person in her marriage from the very beginning. Yes, she was the _wife_, but she was the one that barely got her husband's attention. Their marriage had soon become little more than a mere duty to him. When his older brother died and he became the Dauphin, he had the duty to visit her bed to produce an heir. But it wasn't her bed the one he visited when he looked for passion, affection or love; it was that of Diane. It was Diane who he confided his worries and secrets to, not Catherine. Diane was the one he asked for advice, not her. It was _never_ Catherine. Bearing his children; that was the only use he had for her, and even in that simple task she had failed for almost a decade.

Over the years, she'd learnt to hide the hurt and damage. She'd had to. Showing vulnerability would have only brought her down. That's why she would never admit to anyone how deep the scars of years of betrayal, humiliation and loneliness actually run. It was easier to just pretend that it didn't bother her. It was easier to keep the wall up and pretend that Henry didn't affect her the way he did. It was easier to just pretend that the thought of Henry standing in front of her, looking at her like a wild animal about to capture its prey, the way he usually looked at his mistresses, even _desiring_ _her_, didn't make her heart race and her legs go weak.

He smirked and, suddenly, his eyes left hers. She followed his eyes travelling down the aisle and felt a pang of jealousy as they lay in his young mistress. The sting on her heart only grew stronger as his eyes followed the young harlot as she gracefully walked towards the altar, behind the Scottish queen, her chin held up with pride and a smug smile stuck in her pretty little face. Henry's eyes travelled from his mistress' breasts to her small waist, and then lost themselves in the sway of her hips. His harlot had put in a little show especially for him, she was sure of that, and he had fallen for it. Suddenly, she was forgotten.

Before giving her enough time to recover, Henry's eyes met Catherine's once more. She hadn't been quick enough; she had let down her guard long enough for him to catch a glimpse of the hurt and anger harboured in her eyes. He had seen through the cracks of her usual mask of indifference. In any other occasion, that would've mortified her, but not that day. Her head was bursting with old memories and, at the same time, trying to process everything that had been going on the last few days and right then. She couldn't actually think of the possible consequences her slip could bring. The last time she'd allowed her vulnerability to show in front of him, not so long ago, she'd ended up in his bed. That time, she had some control over it, even if it was small; she'd chosen to be open with him. This time, she didn't, and it made her suddenly feel exposed and violated; anyone who'd been watching her could've noticed, it wasn't just Henry.

But Henry was staring right into her eyes, giving her a playful smile. For an instant, she thought it had been a product of her imagination. She blinked, but it only became wider. Then, she understood it. Henry had taken her vulnerability as an invitation to start one of his games.

She broke off the eye contact, confused, as her eyes travelled to the altar, where her son and his bride were about to sign off their names in their wedding contract. She needed a break from Henry; she needed to get herself together.

A wide smile quickly crept into her lips as she watched the quills of the bride and groom moving upon the paper. Francis, her little boy, her first-born, was married. She still remembered the joy she felt the first time she had felt him move within her; she was finally giving France the child it needed, she was finally securing her position in court, but, most importantly, she realized she had finally done it. She was finally carrying a child; her husband's child. She remembered brushing a tear from her cheek and saying a silent prayer, resting her hand on her belly. The doctors and midwives had already confirmed she was indeed with child, but it wasn't until she felt that kick that she had actually believed it. She hadn't wanted to disappoint him, but she had finally made it; maybe that would make things right between them.

The memory left her with tears burning in her eyes; how naïve and foolish she'd been back then... How little had she known her husband, even after ten years of marriage. No; she wouldn't spill them. She had her children. She loved them. She would do anything for them. They were her happiness.

And now, her eldest son was married; he'd grown up. Even though she still remembered holding him in her arms for the first time, he was a man now. He'd soon bless her with grandchildren to love and cherish. She'd make sure they got the best education and that they had their every necessity covered, but she'd also allow herself to spoil them the way she'd never been able to spoil her own children. She would take care of them, the way the old king Francis, her husband's father, had taken care of her ever since she arrived from Italy. Unlike his son, King Francis had always enjoyed her company.

For an instant, she forgot about everything that was troubling her and allowed herself a sincere smile. Becoming a grandmother was something she really looked forward to. She would be a real good one; no matter what some people thought about her, her family was always her priority. She'd do anything for them. She loved her family with her whole heart.

And, she thought bitterly as her eyes met Henry's, still set on her, burning her, that also included her husband. No matter how he'd treated her over the years, no matter the mistresses and humiliation, no matter how low he held her opinions or his disdain towards her as of late, she still loved him. No matter how miserable it made her feel, she loved him.

Catherine was a fool, and she was well aware of it. When it came to Henry, she was still that fourteen-year-old Florentine girl who'd just arrived to the French court with little to no idea of what would become of her. Back then, even if the uncertainty of her future did indeed frighten her, it had been the memories of her past what had kept her awake during the nights. Henry had soon become her knight in shining armour, saving her from a life in Italy surrounded by the traumatic memories of a broken childhood; what had happened in Florence had made her tough and had turned her into the woman she was now, but it had also made her vulnerable. Before learning about Diane, she had been the happiest woman in court. She considered herself lucky for having him as husband. She loved him with her whole heart. She believed one day he would love her the way she loved him.

To her, Henry was still that same handsome prince who had first made her forget about the horrors she had faced. Her cold mask of indifference, though she'd mastered it over the years, only served to protect her pride because, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, she would never be able to protect herself from him. If he willed to play a game with her, she would always play along, as far as he wished to take it. It always ended up being painful, but she had grown used to it over the years. And, when he finished with her, she would secretly treasure the good moments and silently pick the pieces of her broken heart and try to mend it, as he resumed running behind some other woman's skirts.

Despite everything, she'd play his game for as long as he wanted to, with the hope that someday he might stop running away from her. Even if it didn't happen, she'd continue playing. She'd never stop playing.

To him, it probably was little more than a game he played from time to time with his wife when he got tired of his mistresses. But for Catherine… For her, it was something else; she had her whole heart invested there. Her heart was still vulnerable when it came to Henry. She would never learn.


	2. II

_I'd like to thank all those of you who've left reviews, favourited or followed. You've certainly encouraged me to get this second chapter up.  
To those who might be wondering, there's dialogue and a bit of action in this one. _

_I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

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**II.**

The newlyweds had been dancing and laughing and drinking for hours, but they had barely even touched the food of the banquet held in their honour. Catherine had been watching them bursting with happiness, a wide smile on her lips. For a while, all her worries were forgotten.

Her son was a man now. She was proud of him; she'd always been. But seeing him twirling Mary around the room, looking at her with adoration in his eyes, only made Catherine prouder. He now had a beautiful wife whom he loved deeply. Mary was everything she could have wanted for Francis; she was truly his equal. And they loved each other with a passion that Catherine had always wanted for herself and Henry. But she never got that; there were many things she had never got with Henry.

She shook her head slightly, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were threatening to embitter what remained of the feast. She smiled once more, thinking instead of what her son and his bride were about to go through. The consummation. Unlike hers, she was sure they would manage to go through it without being mortified. They might even come to enjoy it.

When it had been Catherine's time, well over two decades before, she'd been utterly scared. She had barely had the opportunity to even cross some words with her husband before being led to the bedchamber; he had practically been little more than a stranger to her. She'd been in a foreign country, with no friends whatsoever, surrounded by people she barely knew. She remembered being undressed by her ladies, standing in the room in only her nightgown. The old king Francis had come into the room and told her not to be afraid, with a reassuring smile on his lips. He'd kissed her forehead, calling her daughter, and then left the room. She'd been asked to enter the bed and wait for her husband to appear, and so she did, trembling under the covers, trying her best to keep her tears at bay. She'd been absolutely terrified.

She remembered hearing her husband and his friends coming closer to the bedchamber, laughing happily as they walked closer to the doors. Those laughs had made Catherine's blood freeze, bringing back painful memories; memories she had tried really hard to forget about. They made her start panicking; what would happen if he noticed? If he ever even suspected about had happened in Florence, about what those soldiers had done to her, he could easily repudiate her; he could get rid of her and send her back to that city. Who would have blamed him for repudiating a woman who hadn't gone into his bed intact? Would they have believed her if she'd told them what had happened? Would she be spared the humiliation and be allowed to remain his wife? She couldn't take that risk.

Henry had got inside the bed with her and dismissed everyone else, saying that there was no need for anyone else but the two of them to be present; after all, he wasn't the Dauphin, he was nothing more than the king's second son. He had smiled to her once they were all gone, climbing on top of her. She'd instantly flinched at his touch and shut her eyes tightly. His lips had kissed hers as he'd fought to lift her nightgown. Some tears escaped her eyes. Her trembling worsened.

Then, he suddenly stopped, having noticed her distress. He carefully removed her tears with a caress of his thumbs and kissed her lips sweetly. One of his hands remained resting on one of her cheek as he asked her to open her eyes. She did as he asked, and found him looking back at her, his eyes full of worry, affection and promises. He'd smiled and sworn he would never hurt her; he'd be a good husband; he'd take care of her and do his best to make her happy. She'd smiled in return and slightly nodded her head. She had believed him. In that moment, she had fallen for the man she had just married. His promises had vanished into thin air quite early after that, but that didn't really matter. Even if all he had promised her was nothing more than a dream, she'd never managed to get out of his trap; she'd only gotten better at taking his blows and hiding her heartbreak.

Catherine was glad that the love between Francis and Mary was a true one. They wouldn't have to go through what she'd had to go through with Henry. Marriage could be difficult when one loved fully and the other sought the love of another in return. But that's not what was in store for the young couple; they'd have a long and happy marriage.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, immediately taking her out of her thoughts. She turned around slowly, ready to attack whomever had dared to touch their Queen. But she dropped all of her weapons when she realized it had been her son, now standing in front of her, looking back at her. "Mother," he said, a smile playing in his lips, "it's time for me and Mary to leave."

Catherine nodded knowingly. It was obvious he was excited. She couldn't blame him for that. "Good," she said with a smile that matched his, reaching to caress his cheek. Her little boy had grown into a man. "Be gentle. Listen to her," she whispered.

"I will." Francis took a step towards his mother and kissed her forehead. "She's told me that we owe all of this to you; that you opened her eyes. Thank you."

She smiled and shook her head slightly, dismissing his words. What she'd done, she'd done for him and the rest of her children. All she always did, she did for them. "You'll be a good husband." Catherine stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "The best husband any woman could ever dream of."

Francis smiled. "Well, I'll sure do my best." He looked into his mother's eyes and stayed silent for a moment. Yes, there was happiness in them, but there was also melancholy and sorrow, hidden to all but the few who knew how to read the Queen. He had learnt how to do that long ago, when he was still a child, when she used to lower her guard around him and his siblings. She didn't wear her mask around them back then. "You're safe now, mother," he said, resting a hand on her arm, squeezing it. "I'll do whatever's in my hand to ensure it stays this way." There was another short pause. "I'm not like father."

"I know. I do." Catherine let out a small laugh. "I know you're not. Sometimes, you're nothing like him."

Oh, but he was. He was like the Henry she had fallen in love with, the one she knew in their first years, before she'd learnt about his mistresses and he stopped having the decency to hide them from her. He was like that Henry who used to care about her and worry about her. He used to seek her company and have long conversations with her. He used to make her laugh with the smallest anecdote. _That _was the Henry she missed. Sometimes, she still saw him in her husband, hidden under many layers of haughtiness. He was still there, somewhere. He still made his appearance from time to time. Each time he did, it sent daggers to her heart.

She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Come on; don't let your old mother keep you from your wife's bed. She must be waiting for you already, wondering if you've changed your mind." He was about to protest, but then she gave him a small push towards the door, a smile on her lips. "Don't make her wait."

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She had left the banquet as soon as her son did, rushing through the palace to her rooms. Once there, she'd instantly dismissed everyone. She was not in the mood to be around anyone. She could easily ready herself for bed.

As soon as she entered her bedchamber and her doors were closed, she got rid of her dress and oppressing corset with skilful hands. Just as easily, she got into her nightgown. Calmly, she sat in her vanity and stared at her own reflection as she stripped herself of her crown and jewels. Then, she slowly let down her hair and cleaned her face of all makeup.

Once she was done, Catherine continued staring into her reflection, confused. It was as if the woman looking back at her wasn't herself. Yes, years had passed; she was no longer the Catherine who'd first arrived to France. The reflection showed her an older woman, plumper than she used to be, with lines on her face and a woman's body, no longer a girl's. But that wasn't what Catherine didn't recognize in the mirror; it was the reflection's infinite sadness. Under all those layers she put on every day to keep going on and attend her duty, that woman was broken; there was an emptiness inside her that she didn't know how to fill.

Not so long ago she'd told Marie de Guise that she had been defeated. She had been right, even if in the end her life had been spared. She'd been defeated, and she hadn't realized to what extent until that woman stared into her eyes from the cold surface of the mirror.

She was tired of having to always put up her facade to keep her guard from falling. It didn't matter if she broke down, she was alone; nobody would be able to see or hear her. It would be a secret between her and the sad woman in the mirror.

The weight of everything that had been going on, of everything she'd gone through, came to crush her. Tears burned in her eyes. A lone sob left her throat, catching her by surprise, unleashing her tears and making them start falling down her cheeks. And after that sob came another and another, and then she wasn't able to hold them anymore. She buried her face in her hands and wept. It had been a long while since she had last allowed herself such a moment of weakness. It had been too long.

She didn't try to stop the tears. She needed to break down and let it all out; she had been needing it for a while, especially after these last months. It felt good; it proved that she was not the black-hearted woman some believed her to be, that she still had a heart that broke and ached and made her cry. She wasn't as emotionless and heartless as even she had started to believe.

A sound startled her, bringing her back to reality, as if she'd been slapped. Someone was coming to her door, their footsteps quick and determined. They were approaching too quick for her to have the time to make herself look decent. Alarmed, she grabbed her dressing gown and put it on, drying her tears in its sleeves with haste. Shespared herself a quick glance in the mirror; her hair was slightly tousled, her eyes already red and swollen, glistening with tears. She hoped that the light of the candles somehow disguised that. If she was being disrupted at that hour for some stupidity, she swore to herself she'd find a way to punish the fool.

Just as she started to mentally curse her guards for letting someone in, the doors opened with a loud thud, and in came her husband. Her heart stopped for a second.

Henry.

He walked into her room, still fully dressed, looking around curiously. "I'm glad to see that you're not in your bed yet." The doors closed after him, just as loudly.

Catherine sighed and looked at him through his reflection in her mirror, drawing her dressing gown closer to her body. Who else could have it been? Only Henry would dare to get into her rooms at that time of the night without even giving her an explanation. "Don't get your hopes up, husband. I was about to." Her voice came out way more sore and hoarse than she'd have wanted to. She was tired and emotionally exhausted. The last think she needed right then was Henry playing games with her. "What do you want?" She hoped that, whatever it was, it could wait until the following morning.

"Nothing." Her husband had a goofy grin perched in his lips. He seemed to enjoy whatever it was he thought was happening in there. "Do I need a reason to visit my wife now?"

Their eyes met in the mirror. Catherine felt a thrill run down her spine. "Why are you here, Henry? What is it that can't wait until the morning?" The true question, the one she didn't dare to ask, was what he wanted from her, coming to her chambers at that time of the night. He didn't seem to have an answer for her. She cleared her throat and turned her head to see him with her own eyes instead of through the mirror for the first time since he entered the room. "So this is but a courtesy visit? I'm not buying it." Their usual banter was the best protection she knew. The two of them were used to it. It was the best way to avoid starting to think of things she shouldn't think about whenever he was around. "You should start thinking of better excuses. Maybe your advisors could help you with that. They aren't much better at that than you, but unlike you, they are well used to giving excuses. "

He stroked his short beard and grinned. "I was..." He stopped, took a deep breath, attempted to take a step towards her, but eventually returned to his original position. "I don't know what to tell you." He paused and finally closed the distance between them by taking a step towards her. "I just wanted to see you."

Henry's words shook Catherine to her core. She felt a pang in her heart, as her eyes met Henry's again. There was innocence and truthfulness in them. No. She shut her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. No. She was in no condition to do that with him at that moment.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortably. "Well, I guess now I'm here I should make the most of this visit and congratulate you." He made a pause and grinned. "In the end, all of your execution preparations turned out handy for the wedding. You did a good job. It all was perfect; the flowers, the wine, the food, the music... I can only begin to imagine how majestic it would've been."

She couldn't believe her ears. Her nostrils flared in anger. He'd gone too far. "How dare you?" she snapped, violently rising from her chair. She should have known better; she should have thrown him out of her rooms as soon as he got in. She had thought she could do it, that she could go on with her life and pretend that the last weeks hadn't really happened, but she wasn't sure anymore. She turned her back to him as hot tears of rage and frustration started flowing from her eyes. It was too soon. Too much had happened in too little time. Her already fragile heart hadn't had the time to recover from all the blows it had endured.

She didn't want him to see her like that. He wouldn't understand the tears in her eyes; he never had. He had never quite figured her out; he'd never really tried to. He'd quickly gotten used to her mask of indifference, and he'd forgotten even faster that, indeed, she was vulnerable. He'd forgotten that she was a woman, like any other. She wasn't sculpted in stone; she was human. Sometimes she feared that he had even forgotten that she had a heart and was capable of having feelings. Sometimes, she even wondered if he knew her at all, if he ever did.

Henry approached her until he was able to see her in the mirror. He already knew she was crying; her slight shaking gave her away. However, the actual sight of her tears unsettled him. The last time she'd actually seen them, they had just lost their youngest daughter, Victoria. Their girl had been weak and the doctors had told them she wouldn't make it, but Catherine wouldn't give up hope; she'd prayed for a miracle. Despite her pleas, their daughter hadn't made it through her sixth week. Catherine's tears had moved him back then. Now, they confused him.

Should he try to console her or should he just leave and let her be? He didn't know what to do, but he was uncomfortable. He felt the rush to leave the room, but something kept him there. He couldn't just leave his wife like that.

So, he closed the distance between them and hesitantly rested a hand on her shoulder. Catherine froze for an instant, and immediately turned around and slapped his hand away. "Don't," she hissed, her eyes rising to meet his, burning him.

Henry tried to reach for her once more, but he stopped himself beforen even touching her. Her eyes were full of tears and rage. He'd never seen her like that before. Dealing with Catherine in such a state would be like dealing with a wounded animal; despite being vulnerable she'd be more dangerous than ever. He took a deep breath, trying to make his voice softer and kinder. "What is it, Catherine? What is it that's wrong?"

A cackle escaped her throat. Unbelievable, he really was that blind, or maybe he was simply stupid. "Where do you want me to start, dear husband?" He didn't react; he just looked at her puzzled. "I'm on borrowed time. If it were for you, I would be dead right now." Her voice was low and controlled, but her eyes pierced him and made his skin crawl. "Is that answer good enough for you?" He didn't answer her once again. "_Dead_, Henry. And for what? Did you even think about the consequences? And our children? Had you thought what you would tell them when they asked you why you did it?" Tears were freely rolling down her cheeks. "No. You hadn't, had you?"

He took a step back. "Catherine..."

"No," she cut him off. "Now, you come here as if nothing happened. But_ it did_." He had unleashed her tongue; there was no way she'd stop until she got it all out. "Suddenly, you don't seem to mind anymore the fact that I am, as you put it less than two days ago, a '_treasonous_ _adulterer_'." She stopped and looked away from him. Her anger was gone. She was simply exhausted. "You would've had _my head_, and you expect me to forget it all and be thankful because you decided to spare my life at the last minute." She looked at him again. "You would've had my head because of my betrayal, when you've been publicly exposing your for years, for all of the Court and France to see. Despite me being your wife, I've had to see your mistresses being paraded around, being given honours that should've been mine, being treated better by you than I was. And I've had to endure it in silence." She fell into her vanity's chair. "I've been humiliated so many times I've grown used to it. Isn't that a miserable way to live?" She was tired and broken, but it felt good to finally share it with someone, even if it was Henry. She took a deep breath and dried the wet tracks her tears had left in her cheeks. Then, she looked up to meet his eyes and smiled faintly. "I'm tired of this, Henry."

He looked at her, clueless. He knew she was right, and that made him feel guilty. He hadn't treated her the way she deserved to be treated. He hadn't been a good husband to her, nor a good father for their children. He had always been ruled by Diane, while he left Catherine to take care of them. He loved all of them dearly, but he'd always had things in his hands that seemed more important than spending time with them. Catherine, on the other hand, had made them her priority; there was nothing she wouldn't do for them. Only after listening to her he realized that he'd nearly robbed their children of the person who loved and cared about them the most. It hadn't even crossed his mind before.

It pained him to see his Catherine suddenly so small and vulnerable. She was usually stronger than him. She was stronger than all the other women. She was probably one of the strongest people he had ever crossed paths with. Seeing her crushed like that made him feel disgusted with himself. How could he have done that to her? And still, in her eyes he still saw love. Despite everything, his wife loved him, and that made his heart ache. He'd never been the man she deserved.

Henry walked the distance that separated them and hesitantly raised his hand to rest it on her cheek, unsure if she'd allow him to. She gave him a small smile and welcomed the gentle touch of his rough fingers. "Catherine," he had always loved the sound of her name in his tongue, "I'm sorry."

Her mouth opened in surprise. She didn't recall him ever apologising before. "What?" she asked softly. Maybe she'd heard him wrong. "Was it an apology, what just came out of your mouth?"

"Yes." He wanted to ask her to forgive him, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. He wanted to make promises, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep them. "I am sorry." He got onto his knees and took her hands from where they were resting in her lap. They were really small, compared to his. All of her was small, compared to him. And yet, she was braver and stronger than him in so many ways. "I really am." He took her hands into his and kissed them.

He didn't know what else to tell her, but he knew he had to do right to her. He wanted to make her happy again. He wanted to be the man Catherine deserved.


	3. III

**III.**

Catherine flinched as her husband's hands squeezed hers harder. Henry froze for a second and then immediately loosened his grip on her hands. Their eyes met. "What is it?" There was genuine concern in his voice as well as in his eyes, Catherine realized.

"Nothing," she whispered, her voice suddenly small. She already knew that answer wouldn't be enough for him; the stern look in his eyes only confirmed it. She took a deep breath; no answer would be good enough for him unless she showed him, but she'd give their usual bantering another try. "I do appreciate your sudden concern, but it's not something you should be concerned about."

It didn't work; she saw it in the way he looked at her. He was about to talk again, surely to try to get an answer that convinced him, but she couldn't go through Henry interrogating her. It was easier to just show him, even if that would only bring more questions.

She freed her right hand from his gentle grip and placed a finger on his lips, silencing the words that were about to spill from them. Carefully, she used her hand to lift the sleeve of her dressing gown, exposing the bandage on her left wrist and forearm.

The sight had startled him; his widened eyes and his sudden stiffness gave him away. That wasn't what he had expected. He took her arm with both his hands, handling it with care, inspecting it, afraid that a misguided movement might hurt her. "What happened? Who did this to you?" He hoped it had nothing to do with her time on the tower or the shackles she had worn for a time; he wouldn't be able to forgive themselves if it did.

Catherine shook her head. "I - I..." She took a deep breath and rested her free hand on his arm. That was why she had wanted to keep the injury a secret; she knew he would ask her about it and wouldn't tire until he got the answer he wanted. Sometimes, little things like that made her doubt if he really hated her, like he sometimes claimed, or if he actually cared for her. After over two decades of marriage, she wasn't sure yet. "I've already told you it wasn't something you need to worry about. I did it myself; I slashed my wrist. It was a little accident." And that had been just half a lie. He didn't need to know she had done it on purpose; he'd never understand. What mattered was that it had worked. Francis was now married and her life had been spared.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" His eyes pierced through her. "I know _you_, Catherine, and this is nothing like you. You are not sloppy or clumsy enough to slash your arm accidentally." His eyes softened. "There's more to this. I know you don't want to tell me, but this answer is not good enough."

"It will have to be," she snapped, "because it's the only one you are getting." She tried to free her arm, but he stopped her.

He smiled and took her free hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "I'm not trying to push your buttons tonight. Believe me when I tell you that arguing with you is the last thing I would want to do." His eyes told her that he was telling the truth. "Will you at least tell me if you've had it seen to by any doctor?"

Despite herself, Catherine smiled back. She had never been able to resist Henry when he was being nice and gentle with her. It was easy to believe him. "Nostradamus." Henry smiled. "He took care of it and bandaged it." He laughed softly. "What?" she demanded, but his laugh only became harder. "Have I said something funny and not realized it?"

He shook his head. "No, don't fret." He laughed once more, then took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "It's just I don't know why I even bothered asking. _Of course_ you'd go to him for something like this. Who else would you have gone to for a thing like this?"

Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "Jealous?" The look on Henry's face was priceless. Oh, how she loved teasing him! "You have got no need to be... He doesn't know more about it than you do." Catherine smiled. "Besides, he's really not my type..."

"Believe me, I know." His eyes were burning her. He hadn't moved from his position, still on his knees in front of her with his hands resting on her lap, linked with hers. Catherine wasn't used to all of that; it was intoxicating. "I think by now I know your type..." He paused, letting the silence sink between them for a moment.

She felt lightheaded, younger, and full of hope. The air in her lungs burned. There was a sweet pang in her heart. When it came to Henry, she was completely hopeless.

Then, he spoke again, his voice softer. "I really enjoy it when there's no open war between us..." He caressed her hands, his eyes not leaving hers. "It's nice to see you smile and at ease for a change."

Catherine chuckled and shook her head absentmindedly. The fact that he was the one to say it was ironic to say the least, but it was _so_ Henry. After all these years, he still managed to positively surprise her and infuriate her at the same time; always unexpectedly blowing hot and cold. Though, she would never complain if that meant she got to have _her Henry_ back from time to time. If only _that_ Henry showed himself more often, she'd be smiling and happy more often too.

"Oh, and don't get me started on your laugh..." He grinned, caressing her hands with his thumbs. "I have missed it too. It sounds lovely when it isn't tinged with irony and sarcasm."

She legitimately laughed at that, though her legs went wobbly. If she hadn't already been sitting, she would've had trouble to hide it from him. Though, something told her he was well aware of the effect he was having on her. "They are my greatest weapons, dear husband." Those last two words felt all too well coming out of her mouth when they were sincere, especially when they made Henry's eyes light up, as they just had.

He wouldn't even try to pretend that wasn't enjoying seeing her teasing him back. He loved seeing her gathering up her speed, especially after having watched her break in front of him and taking out things she'd been keeping for herself for too long. "The most effective weapons, indeed." He smiled once more. "And only overshadowed by your wit."

Catherine looked into his eyes; there was something in them that she had been seeking for a long time. It was something she had come to believe she would never find in them. She'd learnt to stop wishing for it, or at least to stop being disappointed and heartbroken each time she hadn't found it. Now it was there, and it scared her. Once more, she was falling under his spell, and there was no way to stop it anymore. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to _seduce me_ right now."

He grinned. "_Maybe_." She couldn't even begin to imagine that he was as much under her spell as she was under his.

She was unsettled by his answer, but didn't allow it to show. Instead, she grinned back. His fingers squeezed hers harder. She felt like her heart was about to burst. "Are you trying to get me to invite you into my bed?"

"Maybe." He didn't even blink. His eyes were saying everything that his words didn't. "If I were, would it be working?"

For the first time in years, Catherine allowed herself to wonder what it would feel like if he were hers as much as she was his. "You know, _husband_, this is strange. _You_, coming to me for... _pleasure_... instead of going to one of your mistresses, both young and old." There was no bitterness in her voice. She smiled, and Henry's eyes brightened. "I thought I'd never see the day..." she husked.

He rose from his knees and captured her lips with his, hungrily. He parted their lips barely an inch and kissed them again, sweetly. The first time, he'd taken her by surprise. She hadn't got enough time to react. Before she realized it, his lips were on hers, muffling her whimper. The second time, she'd been ready to join him. She closed her eyes and gave into the kiss until she was breathless. Once their lips parted, she found herself gasping for air, even more lightheaded than she'd been, warm and fuzzy.

He brought his lips near her ear. "Are you complaining, Catherine?"

The feel of Henry's warm breath so near her ear and neck, making her skin tingle, sent a chill down her spine. "No," she whispered. "I wouldn't dare to do that. _Never_."

His hands moved to her cheeks and caressed them softly, freeing her hands. "Good. Does this mean... truce?"

She smirked wickedly and tilted her head slightly, lingering a tender kiss on his cheek. "_Maybe_," she whispered into his ear. She took advantage of her recently freed hands, bringing them behind his neck. "But first, let's get me up from this chair; your back and legs must be sore."

He smiled and helped her up without even a word. This time it was her who pulled him in for a kiss, taking him by surprise. He lowered his hands to her waist, encircling it, drawing her body closer to him. Their lips parted, deepening the kiss.

Then, without realizing it, she brought one of her hands to his chest and pushed them apart, breaking their kiss. She froze and looked into his eyes, with a stern look on her face. Her subconscious had betrayed her, stopping something she very much desired, but something told her it was the right thing to do. She had to get some things straight before investing all of her heart in Henry again. "I'm not one of your mistresses... I'm not like them." She had no idea where she'd found the strength to tell him that. "It is not what this is."

He smiled sweetly and left a peck on her lips. "I know it's not. You are my wife." He ran a hand through her hair, slowly. "You are nothing like them; you have never been." His eyes locked with hers. There were things he needed to say too. "This is not a game for me. I wouldn't have stayed until now if it were, Catherine. You know well I would have left without a second thought if it were."

She gulped. His eyes told her he was being sincere. She felt her heart flutter, and her body relaxed, along with the hardness in her face.

He kissed the corner of her lips. "I've got so many things wrong over the years... I've been an awful husband. I'm sorry. I promise I'll..."

She brought a finger to his lips, making him stop before he could finish what he was about to say. "Hush. Don't promise anything now. Let us not make promises until we are both sure we are going to keep them. No more empty promises." She caressed his cheek. "We have no need to rush; whatever it is, it can wait until you are sure that's what you want. Don't say anything unless you mean it."

Henry nodded slightly. "I understand." He seemed nervous. "The last thing I would want to do is to hurt you." He leaned in closer to her. "Is there anything I can do to prove you?"

She was able to hear the smile on his voice. "There's no need for that. You're here; that's enough." She was still frightened, but he wasn't backing away. Maybe that was what scared her. It was unknown territory. "I can't do heartbreak anymore, Henry. Please, hold me," she whispered.

There was not as much as a second of doubt before his arms encircled her waist again. Her arms embraced him tightly, his clothes in her fists, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. He corresponded by tightening his embrace too, his strong arms lifting her feet from the ground.

Catherine suddenly shuddered. Her tears started to flow against his neck. He landed her feet in the floor again, still holding her as close to him as he possibly could. She loosened her grips on his clothes and calmly rested her head on her chest, allowing her silent tears to flow. After a while, the tears had dried up. The steady sound of his heart beating so close to her was more calming than any words he could have said. He hadn't pushed her for an explanation for her tears, and he had certainly not tried to stop them. She appreciated that more than any other gesture he could have had towards her. It showed her how much he really meant everything he'd said.

She slowly separated herself from his chest, his hands still on her waist and hers still on him, just apart enough to be able to see his eyes. "Henry." She smiled, a new tear rolling down her cheek. "I don't think I can remember you ever being so loving and sweet with me," she admitted, blushing, "I'm not even sure there's a time I can compare with this one."

He removed the tracks her tears had left and then kissed her forehead, a smile on his lips. "It's late. It's been a long day. We all should get some rest." He looked at her, a speck of hope in his eyes. "Do you want me to stay the night?"

Catherine's heart skipped a beat. "I do," she confessed breathlessly. There was nothing her heart craved more than to spend the rest of the night feeling the warmth of his body close to her.

* * *

Something took Catherine out of her sweet slumber. For a moment, she feared it would be Henry trying to leave her alone in her bed in the cold of the night, without even a word. But no. He was still there, fast asleep, the weight of his arm over her waist, his chest against her back, and his face buried in her hair. The realization that he had stayed, that he was sleeping peacefully in her bed, cuddling with her as if it were something familiar, made her heart flutter. Their bodies fit perfectly well, much better than she had ever imagined they would.

She snuggled against him, trying to fall asleep again, but some noise disturbed her. Despite her eyes being closed, she felt a light moving in the room. She sighed, irritated, and reluctantly opened one of her eyes. She couldn't quite make who it was, but it surely was a woman holding a candle. She shut her eyes tightly, wishing it would vanish. "I don't know why I insist on paying my guards..." she muttered under her breath as she carefully took Henry's hand and removed it from her, so as to be able to somehow sit up. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the light, allowing her to actually see the unwelcome visitor. "What is it?" The young servant girl in front of her shivered. She seemed confused, probably because the King was a rare sight in the Queen's rooms. She could be sure that the following day that would be the talk of the court. "I hope you have a very good reason to be taking me from my husband's arms." She didn't raise her voice; she didn't want to wake Henry. Whatever it was the girl had come for, she could handle on her own.

The girl blushed and looked at her feet. "Pardon me, Your Majesty, but I..." The girl took a step back and breathed deeply. She was probably scared and intimidated. "Prince Henry awoke from a dream, and he won't go back to sleep. He is asking for his mother."

Catherine shook her head. "Nightmares?" The young girl nodded. "Then why do you come to me without him?" It hadn't been the first time something similar happened; she knew well the only way to calm him and put him back to sleep was herself. The young girl was about to give some kind of excuse, but she cut her. "Go get him."

The girl did a low curtsy and quickly left the room.

Catherine took a deep breath and got up from the bed. She took one of the candles in the room and lit it with the help of the fire burning in the fireplace across the room, opposite the bed. She settled it on her nightstand and took a moment to appreciate the sight of her husband in between her sheets in only his shirt and underpants, the rest of his clothes resting on a chair near the bed. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. She leaned in over the bed, kissing his temple. "Go back to sleep, my love. I'll be back to bed soon."

He smiled her a small smile and closed his eyes again, bringing the covers closer to his body.

Seeing him like that, it seemed like he belonged there. She certainly wouldn't mind getting used to sharing her bed with him.

Tiny footsteps coming through her doors made her take her eyes off from her husband. She gave her son her warmest smile as she picked him up. His small arms encircled her neck and held onto her tightly. She kissed his head tenderly and ran a soothing hand down his back. Her eyes came to rest in the young girl who had first woken her, standing awkwardly by her door, with one of her guards standing in the threshold. "You can leave now. Have someone come for him tomorrow first thing in the morning, before the rest of the children are up."

The girl nodded her head and left swiftly, the guard closing the doors behind her, from outside her bedroom.

Catherine looked at her son again, a big smile on her lips. The last time she had been with him had been when that wretched soul had taken Charles and him. She hadn't had any other chance to see them yet, though she had been planning to devote the following morning to her children. Now, she regretted not finding the time to properly see them earlier. "You've grown bigger and stronger since I last saw you; you're almost crushing me."

The boy buried his face on her hair and held onto her tighter. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her husband in his sleep. With the boy now sitting comfortably on her lap, she was able to hug him tenderly. "Was it a bad dream, my beautiful eyes?"

Little Henry did a small nod with his head. "You left, mama."

Her blood froze. She feared she knew what he was referring to. "To where?"

He looked up and met her eyes. "To heaven," he whispered weakly, his eyes full of uncertainty.

Catherine gulped, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat. Her heart broke, seeing her boy so lost and confused. "I'm here," she whispered back, pulling a loose strand of hair behind his ear. She smiled and caressed his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looked at her, eager, freeing her neck. "You promise?"

She drew him closer to her. "I promise, my love." She kissed his forehead. "I won't be going anywhere anytime soon. You don't need to worry about that."

He snuggled up closer to her, his arms around her torso. "Missed you."

Her heart warmed. "I know. I have missed you too." She ran one of her hands through his fair hair. This, he had got from her, but the rest of him was a spitting image of his father, especially his beautiful eyes. Looking into them was like looking at a better and more innocent version of her husband. Those were the same eyes which had made her fall in love with her Henry.

She knew well that a mother wasn't supposed to have favourites, but her Little Henry held a very special place in her heart. It wasn't only his looks though. He was different from his brothers and sisters; he was more like her when she was a child than any of them.

Little Henry suddenly grew still and pulled her nightgown. "Mama," he whispered, alarmed, "your sheets are moving!" Catherine smiled widely and fondled his hair. He looked at her confused. "There's something in your bed!"

She brought her index finger to her lips, indicating him to keep quiet. "Yes, but you need to keep it a secret from your brothers and sisters..." She looked upon her shoulder and saw Henry holding still, pretending to be asleep. She smiled. "I'm sorry our chatter awoke you," she whispered. He just grumbled and hid under the sheets.

"Who is it?" their son insisted, utterly confused.

Catherine sat further towards the centre of the bed and angled her body towards the bulk under the sheets, so that Little Henry could see it better. "That would be your father," she said pointing at the bulk.

One of her hands moved towards where Henry's head would be, pulling the sheets and uncovering a slightly amused Henry. "Hello," he croaked, his voice heavy with sleep.

The boy's eyes widened comically. He rose to his knees, still on his mother's lap, not letting go of her, looking at the other man with a frown. "_Father_?" He certainly sounded as confused as he looked. His eyes were on Catherine again. "What is he doing in your bed?" he whispered near her ear.

She giggled and ran a hand through his hair, trying to make him feel more at ease. "Well, he's -"

"Trying to sleep," he cut in, finishing for her, a grin on his lips. "Well, I was." He sat up in the bed.

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to give such a blunt answer to a child... "What your father means is that... Sometimes, people who are married sleep in the same bed."

Their son looked between them. "Why?"

Catherine smiled and sat him back on her lap. "Because they enjoy sleeping together."

Henry snickered. "Or to make babies." That earned him a slap from his wife, but it had been worth it, even if only for the horrified look in her face.

Their boy frowned and rubbed his eyes while his small brain worked. "So now that Francis and Mary are married they will sleep in the same bed and make babies?"

The older man grinned. "They better..."

"Enough of that," Catherine hissed at her husband, slapping his arm and sending him a deathly glare. "He's just a child."

But their son didn't notice any of that; he was busy yawning. He looked at his father with curiosity. "So... you and mama were making babies too?"

Catherine hid her face in her hand, mortified. She'd kill Henry for that, he was sure of it.

He cleared his throat and grinned. "No. We were just sleeping," he said innocently.

Little Henry looked at his mother, confused, and then back at his father. "Then why aren't you in your own bed?"

"You see... It's because I love her." Henry smiled tenderly and reached to caress Catherine's cheek. Then, he winked at his son. "But don't you tell her. She mustn't know." Henry didn't give Catherine time to recover from his confession before opening the sheets, smiling at them. "Now, you better get into bed and try to sleep, or else dawn is going to catch up with us."

Little Henry looked at his mother hesitantly, but she only had a small, happy smile for him. She was too stunned to react to Henry's confession. "Come on, beautiful eyes, I think we will be able to squeeze you in the bed wit us."

Their son gingerly jumped off Catherine's lap and removed his slippers and the robe they had pulled on him before leaving his bed. Then, he joined his parents, already snuggling comfortably in the bed.

He soon fell asleep in his mother's arms, feeling safe. And, for the first time in a long while, Catherine also fell asleep feeling safe and happy. Her husband's arm was over her waist, his hand on her thigh, and she felt all of him pressed against her.

Henry had never been one to spend the night. He had never been one to enjoy the company of their children. And certainly, he had never been one to confess his love for her. Maybe there was still hope for the two of them.


	4. IV

_Thank you so very much for reading this fic, adding it to your alert or favourites and for all of your reviews!  
I'm sorry I haven't had the time to reply to them, but know that every one of them has had me grinning from ear to ear. _

* * *

**IV.**

When she first awoke, just for a moment, she panicked, her mind still foggy and drowsy from sleep, her eyes still too heavy to be opened. But the warmth of his body snuggled up against her had quickly dissipated her fear. She released the breath she had been holding and smiled, glad that it hadn't just been a dream. Her mind had played similar tricks on her before, confusing dreams with reality in the early hours of the morning. But not that time. Not only had he stayed the night, but also his arms had drawn their bodies closer during their sleep. She was able to feel his warm breath on her neck, sending thrills down her spine, building up a tension on the pit of her stomach she had been yearing for for way longer than she even dared to admit to herself. Certainly, waking up with Henry's arms wrapped around her almost possessively was the sweetest way to wake up.

She closed her eyes tighter, trying to savour the moment. Although it was still early, she had a long day ahead of her. She'd soon have to leave the bed, but she could enjoy it just a little while longer. She took a deep breath and allowed her body to relax under Henry's weight and touch. It truly felt wonderful, lying awake in her bed with both her Henrys, still sleeping soundly and peacefully. That calmness and easiness made up for the mess that had been the last few days. The last few weeks, actually. It was way too easy to forget it all and bask in her current happiness.

She wouldn't mind spending an entire day at bed with her husband, his body close to hers, doing nothing at all, just resting and dozing in and out of sleep. The idea sounded wonderful, but she wasn't in a dream; she had duties to attend to. Despite the fact that the mere thought of having to get out of bed and start the preparations for the day pained her, she had to do it. If she indulged now, she'd see her time with all of her children cut, and she wouldn't allow that to happen. She'd be able to enjoy her husband's company in her bed other times.

_Maybe_. She sighed; she wasn't so sure about that. She felt the doubt creeping in, making her uneasy, the anguish settling on her stomach. Henry could easily change his mind, decide to ditch her and not even give her an explanation; that was what the years had taught her. But... he had been nice and gentle. He had kissed her. He had handled her vulnerability with care. He had asked her to let him stay the night and actually stayed, even after their son had joined them. Something had changed. She had seen it in the way he looked at her, like she was a precious thing, with worry and affection. With... _love_. He had agreed on no more empty promises, he had said he didn't want to hurt her, and then he'd told their son that he _loved her_. Was it true? Did he? She could never be completely sure with Henry, but her heart longed to believe him.

Even if that was the last thing she wanted to do, she needed to get out of the bed and start her day. She carefully removed her arms from her embrace on Little Henry, trying not to wake him. It was still too early for him. He stirred in his sleep, but didn't wake. Then, she embarked in the more difficult task of freeing herself from Henry's arms. She tried to, but his grip became stronger.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled, still half asleep. He yawned, so close to her that the sound barely reached Catherine's ears. "It's still early." He loosened his grip on her and moved her hair out of the way to place a sweet kiss on the hollow of her neck. "Stay."

Catherine turned to face him, slowly, trying not to disturb Little Henry. "I can't," she whispered, staring into his half-opened eyes, unable to erase the small smile from her lips. "I need to take a bath and dress for the day. I won't be far."

He closed his eyes for a moment and looked at her slightly confused. "I should... my rooms. Clothes."

She smiled and brought one of her hands to caress his cheek. "There's no need. It's still early. I can get someone to bring you clean clothes from your rooms, and you can get some more sleep." She bit her lip nervously, unsure if her proposal would be welcome. Maybe he just wanted a good excuse to leave. "Well... that's if that's what you want, of course..."

Henry slightly shook his head and closed his eyes again. "That sounds perfect."

His grip on her dropped completely. Carefully, she sat up and drew the sheets from them. She managed to get out of bed, almost having to climb on top of him. Then, already on her feet, she drew the sheets over him again and smiled wholeheartedly at the sight in front of her. Her husband and son sleeping soundly in her bed. A sight both unusual and pleasant.

Her eyes travelled to the big window near her bed. She had done well in getting up; they would have soon been disturbed by any of her ladies if she hadn't. She looked around the room. The fire had extinguished during the night; no wonder she was feeling somewhat chilly. She reached for her dressing gown and slippers, tossed away on the other side of the bed the previous night. She put them on and moved towards the door, sparing a look to her reflection on her mirror. She smiled. It was a good thing that she had arranged for a morning bath the previous day. Good Lord, her hair was a mess.

She opened and closed the door behind her carefully, as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the two men sleeping in her bed. She leaned her back on the door once it was closed, shutting her eyes and smiling widely. A sigh of happiness and relief escaped her lips.

"Majesty," said a voice near her. Catherine's body tensed, irritated that someone had dared to interrupt that peaceful moment. "Your Grace."

She sighed again, not so happily, and opened her eyes. "Oh, it's you Charlotte."

The young woman smiled slyly. "I'm sorry Your Grace, I didn't want to disturb, but your bath's ready. The water's perfect now. I was about to come into your rooms." There was a small silence. "Also, I bring news." Catherine just nodded her head and led the way to the small room that held her bathtub, her lady following her a couple of steps behind.

Once there, Catherine sent one of the girls who'd prepared her bath to get some clothes for her husband and make sure someone would come for Little Henry. Then, she waved her hand, dismissing the remaining servant girl. Charlotte was more than able to help her bathe and dress on her own, and they didn't need unwelcome ears to hear any of the news Charlotte had for her.

The younger woman waited by her side as Catherine undressed herself, taking her nightgown and dressing gown when she handed them to her, folding them nicely and leaving them in a nearby chair. Then, she held out her arm to help Catherine balance herself to get into the bathtub.

Catherine sunk her body into the hot water, careful not to dip her injured arm; the cut wasn't completely healed yet and it may open again if she was careless. She took a deep breath and buried her head in the water for as long as she was able to hold her breath. She emerged and wiped the water from her face with the cloth Charlotte handed her. She then took the cloth and dampened it with water, added some soap, and started to patiently scrub all the dirt off her body with it, as she allowed Charlotte to take care of her hair. She had always loved a long warm bath, and it was the first chance she had to take one thoroughly since her time in the tower. She loved how the warm water always managed to relax her body completely; no matter how big her worries, a bath always guaranteed taking a brak from them.

"So," she mumbled, half-way through the bath, "what are the big news you bring me today?"

The young woman chuckled. "Well, Your Grace, I think you know the news. There are some _rumours_ going on already. Silencing them would be difficult and would require quite a lot of money and quick work..."

Catherine smiled to herself. Of course there was no need to ask which rumours she was referring to; their protagonist was lying on her bed as a testimony. "There's no need in trying to stop them."

These were the kind of rumours that she could live with. Why would she want to stop the Court from knowing her husband had spent the night in her bed? The Court would surely enjoy the novelty. They would begin to speculate whether it was true or not, whether it was a one time thing or if it would become a more permanent arrangement. Catherine herself wasn't sure, but her heart refused to believe that Henry would simply forget about her and go back to his mistresses after the previous night and having woken up tangled with him. Something had changed between them.

She was sure that there would be malicious gossip about her having bewitched him, accusing her of having used some _poison_. Even after all those years, there were still some people at Court that saw her as nothing more than '_that Florentine woman_' and spoke ill of her behind her back while they put on a good face whenever she was around. She would let them speak ill of her, just like they always did. The ordeal of the last few weeks had showed her those whose loyalties really lied with her. Not her remaining family in Italy, who in the end has abandoned her to her own luck, nor most of those who once claimed to be her _friends_ in Court, who wouldn't have moved a finger to stop her beheading. They all would've been in the front row and drank all the wine happily, raising their glasses for the dead _evil_ queen. And then, there were those that had not only not been on her side, but that had also helped in her downfall and humiliation. They would not be forgiven nor forgotten. She'd have her retribution.

While Catherine was busy with her own thoughts, Charlotte had rinsed her hair and moved to get her a linen towel. "So... Is there someone in particular that should learn about the King's visit?" she asked, offering her arm to Catherine, to help her out of the water.

Catherine smirked as she took her arm, drew the towel around her body, and got out of the bathtub. The younger woman knew her well. Apparently, the first chance to have her vengeance was about to start unfolding before her eyes. "The Lady Kenna." Oh, she would love to be able to see her husband's young mistress reaction when she learnt about it. She was sure the expression on her face would be priceless; the King going to his old wife's bed instead of inviting her to his own bed. The harlot had enjoyed way too much having the upper hand on her, and had dared to put on a show for Henry during the wedding. Maybe it was the perfect opportunity to finally teach Kenna which was her true place. "And make sure that I can be informed of her reaction later."

Charlotte nodded. "Consider it done." She started helping Catherine dry up. Once they had taken care of that, Catherine sat in a chair and started rubbing oils and lotions on her skin while Charlotte combed her hair. "There are other news circulating." Catherine hummed but didn't look up to the other woman. She didn't really care for more Court gossip. "Concerning the King's bastard."

Catherine sighed; she surely had got her interest this time. "What is it this time? Wasn't he supposed to leave for Spain?" Contrary to what some might think of her, Court gossip wasn't really one of her interests. To her, it was nothing more than a tool. She didn't enjoy the gossiping, but sometimes it brought valuable information.

"Yes, he is. He left last night. That's not it." She noticed the Queen's patience running out. She was tired of the drama that always surrounded her husband's bastard. "The King forced him to witness the consummation last night."

Catherine frowned. "Did he?" The first thought that crossed her mind was for her son. Poor Francis, having Sebastian witness such an intimate moment... But he was strong enough to get over it. Henry probably didn't think about how awkward it would be for their Francis, he probably just wanted to prove a point to his bastard son. "Well, somehow it doesn't surprise me."

"And, Your Grace, I've heard something else..." the younger woman said, almost shyly. Catherine just nodded, urging her to speak. "One of the King's pages was talking about... the King's absence last night... and he mentioned that the Lady Kenna was in the King's rooms the night before the wedding, wearing just a robe." She paused and cleared her throat, noticing the Queen growing stiff, the good mood she'd been in vanishing. "He said that she was dismissed almost immediately. Of course, the other men thought he was just bluffing."

A smirk graced Catherine's slips. "Oh, did she?" She turned her head to look at her companion.

Charlotte nodded. "The page said that she left rather angry, with just enough time to have crossed a few words with the King, and that he didn't seem much pleased either when she was announced or after she left." She smiled wickedly. "And one of the servants who attends her confirmed the story."

"Good," she muttered. So _that_ was the reason of the show the young harlot had put on during the wedding. So Henry wasn't that smitten with the young Scot anymore and Diane was away from Court and had not been invited back yet. Suddenly, Catherine felt in much better spirits. Suddenly, it all made much more sense.

* * *

Catherine entered her bedchamber again, already fully dressed, her hair still down, waiting for it to be fully dry before styling it for the day, her face still free from any makeup. Almost an hour had gone by since she had left the bed, but both men still slept, despite the light coming from the window.

She moved towards her husband's side of the bed and sat in its edge. It was time for him to wake up. She rested her hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly, causing him to stir in his sleep. She shook him stronger, but he remained still, as if he didn't notice anything. Then, his hand suddenly captured her wrist, taking her by surprise. He had turned around in bed and looked up to her from the cushion. Her heart raced. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do more; the impulse to slap away the smug grin on his lips was hard to resist, but so was the impulse to wipe it with a kiss. She decided for the later, leaning over him and leaving a peck on his lips, only to part their lips as quickly as they'd been joined.

He stared at her, surprise on his eyes, as Catherine's lips curved up in mischief. He cleared his throat and tried to tug her towards him again, unsuccessfully. "How's it that you look so beautiful in the morning?"

Catherine chuckled heartily, trying to ignore the fact that her cheeks were burning. "You're such a charmer." She was mortified; she was blushing like a child... "Does this _ever_ work, Henry?" Well, she did, but she hoped that teasing him she'd be able to hide it.

He shrugged with a grimace on his face, a small smile hidden behind it. Of course he had noticed. "I'd never dare to lie to you." He brought his free hand to stroke the hand he'd already captured. "No more lies." His voice was soft, little more than a whisper. Catherine wasn't sure if she wasn't just imagining it all. "We agreed on that last night, didn't we?"

She felt her legs go weak. The power he had over her was starting to simply get ridiculous. That's why she had built up a wall against him and kept it up for years. She'd had to protect her heart from him, or else she'd have gone crazy years ago. Now, the wall was down, and she didn't know how to deal with it all. It was _too much_. She was afraid that it all would crash down and she'd end up more hurt than ever. But his eyes... they assured her everything would be alright; they told her she was in good hands, safe.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. "So... you meant _that_? What you told our boy..."

Henry smiled and squeezed her hand. "Yes, I did." He sat up in bed and caressed her cheek with the back of his free hand. "But don't tell anyone I said it. Let's keep this a secret between us two..."

His hand moved from her cheek to under her chin. He lifted it with two of his fingers and stared into her eyes for a moment. "Henry, our son already knows, and..." He shushed her and kissed her lips, sweetly, with a tenderness that dissolved any remaining doubts Catherine still had. She ran a hand down the side of his face as their lips parted. Her eyes met his again and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It won't be long until the Court learns about your visit... They'll be onto us then. We'll be watched. Are you sure..."

"I am, if you are." He smirked. "And well... It isn't that bad. The news will certainly keep them entertained for a while. Maybe we should just... give them something real to gossip about, don't you think?" He looked at her innocently, but he didn't fool her. He was just teasing her.

Catherine quirked one of her eyebrows and leaned in to kiss him again. After a short moment, she broke it. "That's all you'll be getting for now," she muttered under her breath, resting her forehead against his, a small smile playing in her lips. "Don't tempt me, Henry."

He moved back, worry written all over his face, his eyes scrutinizing her. "Why?" Something told her that he feared she was refusing him.

She shook her head and smiled. "Because... I might not be able to resist you if you do." She tried to get up, Henry releasing her hand immediately. "Come on, you need to refresh and get dressed. You've already got a bath and fresh clothes ready for you. My servants will help you if you need any help."

Henry shook his head and moved to leave the bed; he knew he had no chance to convince his wife to leave that for later. Once he was on his feet, he looked at her and smiled. "Will you at least still be here when I finish?"

Catherine smiled back. "Yes. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Without Henry distracting her and the help of one of her ladies – not Charlotte, she had work to do –, she had soon been ready. Then, she sat on her bed, beside her son, waiting for him to wake up. Her eyes travelled to the window. She was still on schedule; getting up early had been worth it. She could still wait a little bit before waking Little Henry.

She stared into the sky and allowed her thoughts to run freely for a while. She was still confused. She still wasn't sure if trusting Henry with her heart had been the most stupid decision she had made in her life; only time would tell her. She closed her eyes and smiled absentmindedly. There was no use in worrying anymore. She had already let him in; but still, she couldn't allow herself to think that things would change for good, that they would last forever. _That_ was something she had to keep burned into her mind. She just couldn't, because if she allowed herself to believe it, she'd be done; if things changed back, the hurt would be too much to bear. All she could do now was to take all she could from it, for as long as it lasted, and then when he walked away from her – if he did – she would have good memories that would keep her going on. It wasn't perfect, but it was far a better prospect than the one she'd had in the last few years.

Catherine smiled again, feeling her son moving under the covers. She put all of her worries aside and looked at him, yawning and rubbing his eyes. The boy froze for an instant, surely confused about not being in his own bed, until he noticed his mother by his side. Then, a big smile appeared on his lips. "Good morning, darling." He drew his hands around her waist and snuggled closer to her. Catherine ran a hand through his hair and allowed him to rest his head on her lap. "Have you slept well tonight, hmm?"

Henry nodded his golden head. "Yes, mama." His arms released her as he turned to look at her, his body in the bed and his head still on her lap. "Can I stay with you today?"

The look on his eyes killed her. He had truly missed her. She felt bad for having to turn him down. "I'm sorry, darling, but right now mama has lots of things to do." His little face fell, unable to hide his disappointment. "But... later I'll come to see you, your brothers and sisters. What do you think about that?"

His eyes beamed with happiness. He got up from his lying position and got on his knees over the bed. "Oh, yes! Please, mama. Please, come!"

"Of course I'll come, but you don't tell them about it. We keep it a surprise." The boy nodded eagerly, almost jumping on the bed. "Oh, come and give mama a big kiss."

Little Henry did as his mother had asked him, and kissed her cheek, hugging her with all the strength he had in his tiny body. Suddenly, he broke it and looked at her, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Mama, will father come?"

She caressed his cheek with affection and kissed his forehead. "He is busy, my beautiful eyes. You know he is the King, don't you? He has all of France to worry about."

He nodded his head. "I know. But... does he love us like he loves you, mama?"

Catherine shushed him and ran a hand through his beautiful hair. She looked into his eyes, so full of worry and confusion that made her heart ache. "Of course he loves you, don't ever doubt that. He is your father. A father _always_ loves his children. He just... doesn't know how to show it."

She hugged her son closer to her body. "Your Majesty," said a voice from the doors. She sighed and opened her eyes. Perfect, they had just come for him _now_.

Catherine placed a kiss on the top of his head and handed him his robe and slippers. "You have to go now, Henry." The boy nodded his head as his mother helped him with the robe. "Be a good boy."

He smiled. "I'll be, mama."

Then, Catherine watched him leave the room, guided by one of the nurses. Once they were gone, still seating on the bed, she closed her eyes for an instant, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. Poor thing. He was so young and already frightened and confused; utterly confused. Just like she had once been.


End file.
